carvings
by reminiscent-afterthought
Summary: His actions, his indecision... it's all led to this, wounded both Ash Ketchum and the world so that nothing could fix them...except time. The legendries fly for Ash, but they offer Alain this one chance, to go back and fix his mistakes so he doesn't doom the world again. But he's not the Chosen One who'll save it. That's still, and will always be, Ash.


**A/N** : Another one of those spin-offs from where Lysandre tries to control Ash because, really, it's just too fun. XD And Alain is climbing into the ranks of favourite characters and that deserves a multichap, so here we are. And written for the Diversity Writing Challenge, m13 – time-travelling! AU…which should explain the ending, if the summary didn't. XD

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 **carvings**  
 _Prologue_

The beams strike and it's a dizzying kaleidoscope of colours in Ash's eyes.

I can't look away. They're boring into me, _me_ when Lysandre is the one doing this but maybe that's exactly why. "I believe in you, Alain." That's what he said. He still believes in me, even now, but what can I do against that the beam that controls Zygadre? What can I do against the man who'd blindfolded me so thoroughly that even now I couldn't see the full picture of what he'd wrought.

Of what _I'd_ wrought, because the fuel was the Mega-evolution energy I'd been collecting for so long. Collecting because I thought it would bring a world of peace. Collecting because I thought it would bring Mairin's sweet smile back to her, and Chespie back to our world. Collecting because I thought it would protect her, and protect the Professor… the two people in the world most important to me and now that Ash is looking at me like that, I know he's taken the number three spot but it doesn't matter now. It just drives the wedge of betrayal and powerlessness even deeper into my gut.

Because I'm only here as a witness of my own folly, and Ash is…

The Chosen One, Lysandre called him. What did that mean? Of course, one has to be a blinder boy than I to not see that Ash has something special, something in his battles. It's carefree but powerful and unwavering and some truth few trainers can ever hope to reach and he already has it. And that last orange-coated shuriken… I can only wonder how I ever won that battle. Single-minded determination, perhaps. Because Ash only had a title to lose and I'd had – or had thought I had – so much more.

But if it had been an unofficial battle, like on the field of the Pokemon Centre like before, it may have had a very different, and more deserving, conclusion.

Because, right now, it's obvious I don't deserve my victory: the trophy that's shattered and crushed underfoot as we fled the torturous vines and the falling stadium. A trophy that always meant little to me and now means even less. The strength I'd thought I'd had, the things that led me there… In the end, I'd just been a puppet for strings to pull and now I was cut loose.

Cut loose to do what?

Ash grits his teeth. He fights, even as the beam slips about and digs in for a foothold in his mind. Greninja screams and it's so unlike the scream of pain in battle, the scream of taking Charizard's flamethrower or thunder punch. It's the scream of slipping hope, of despair, and my stomach plummets because who's going to stop them if they lose? Who's going to save them?

I don't think Charizard and I can beat Ash and his Greninja again, and definitely not like this. I'm not sure I can even _want_ to, drowning in those brown eyes.

How can they express so much, tell such a detailed tale and still blaze on?

How haven't they yet lost the fight?

'No.'

I start. Lysandre starts too. Ash's gaze has finally, _finally_ , swung away and it's burning into Lysandre now and he cringes. He sees a force that's not quite under his control and it should be Zygarde doing that except it's not. Zygarde's a slave to that beam but Ash is still fighting it, and Greninja at his feet is still writhing in pain but fighting it as well.

'No,' Ash repeats. He sounds strained, but confident. So sure and maybe, after this tug of war, he's dug his heels in and can be that sure he won't lose his grip on his mind. A strength that even a legendary has…or maybe it's the machine, calibrated to work on legendries but not on humans. Who knows? Who really cares?

Inwardly, I sigh with relief.

Too soon. Neither of them stare at me right now but I can see both their eyes. Ash's, a steady brown though still awash with both red and blue and burning, and Lysandre's blue and I see something snap in them.

Then there's an explosion of colours and all I hear are pokemon shrieks and Ash's scream.

When it clears, I see. The true brutality beneath Team Flare and I've been blind, so blind.

Hawlucha is shrieking the loudest of them and I get it, I get it because it did the same in our league match but then the wound was so small, so insignificant and that was just a parent or mentor avenging their student, but this – this is…

Ash just stares at the slash on Noivern's chest, where the super-effective dragon tail of a mega-evolved Gyarados had struck like a sword straight into its heart and there's nothing in its eyes.

I didn't know a pokemon could die so quickly, so decisively, so…unnecessarily.

I'm still staring when Lysandre orders an incinerate. This time it's Hawlucha who takes its force and its charred feathers fall. Ash screams again and strains against his bonds. Greninja strains again. Their grip on their minds is lost and Lysandre goes back to watching, as though he's tipped the scales enough.

I'm shaking. My nails bite my palms and my indecision has done this. Pokemon, two pokemon, two good friends of that boy and that trainer and I just stood and watched –

I have pokemon too. Precious pokemon. Precious partners. Precious friends. And neither my hands nor theirs are bound. I know this. I knew it, and yet I'd dwelled on powerlessness and it's lead to this.

Hadn't the path of power I'd sought all along been _with_ pokemon? With Charizard?

'Charizard!' I enlarge the poke-ball. 'Let's go!'

But Lysandre is prepared for that as well. His Pyroar is released as well and the two fire types clash. Lysandre ignores them both and I reach for another poke-ball… But against a mega-evolved Gyarados, which one? Tyrannitar will be the strongest but a sandstorm in such a narrow field could kill us. An electric type is best against a Gyarados. But I _have_ no electric types. Or grass types.

There's Ash's Pikachu, straining in its bindings as well, as though equally apart of the thrall that's ensnared Ash and Greninja. They're not seeing the battle either. They have no witnesses. No trainers yelling commands. This isn't a battle in a stadium for prestige and some title.

I send out Bisharp and Unfezant. Stop the Gyarados. Break the bonds. But it's just an attempt and nothing more. Bisharp on his own has no hope and it's my fault. How long have I chased the end of the world with Charizard and neglected my other pokemon? When did I become so obsessed over mega-evolution? When did I become drunk on its power?

Ash bows his head. But tears fall at his feet and he hasn't lost yet.

Lysandre loses his patience and calls for another dragon tail and Bisharp is too busy with the head to block it. 'Unfezant!' I yell, but he mistakes my yell and dodges out of the way instead, like he would in battle – a one on one battle where it's only us and our pokemon and there'd be no-one else to take a strike if it misses its mark…

It hits Goodra and I can't even say I'm sorry before the light goes out.

This time I only hear Greninja's scream and I know it's over. Lysandre is going to get what he wants and I may as well be a Hoppip drifting atop the tower for good I'm doing here to stop him. Unfezant hovers in the air and waits for my next command – which is what? What do I do? What can I do?

Ash's eyes stare only at Greninja now and they flicker between red and blue and the brown is almost gone.

And there's Pikachu trying to shock its bonds and getting nowhere at all.

And a roar that makes the tower tremble. It's over. The only one left is Pikachu and a type-advantage won't help it all tied up and a trainer who can break the box to get out of a jam is drowning in this Bond Phenomenon nobody understands but they all revel.

The Messiah. The Chosen One. The only known person to bring out a phenomenon like this in their pokemon –

But then who gave it the name "Bond Phenomenon"?

The researcher in me draws up short but the rest of me screams. This isn't the time. It's really not the time. Gyarados is going to launch another attack and Bisharp and Unfezant aren't enough. Who else do I have? If not Tyrannitar, then –

Metagross. There's Metagross.

But I don't even reach its poke-ball before time is gone.

.

There's five of us. Lysandre and our pokemon – even the weight of my poke-balls, are gone. Ash is here, Ash…and Pikachu in his arms as well. But his head is bowed and I can't see his eyes and Pikachu's turned to his chest so I can't see hits eyes either and Greninja's not there at all. They could be dead, alive, trapped in their own minds or burning with despair and hate and revenge or bled out until there are only empty shells, and the way they're hunched in on each other, I can't tell at all.

And then there are two dragons I only know because of Professor Sycamore. Blue and pink. From the space-time legend. Dialga and Palkia. The pokemon who rule over time and space.

They don't speak. I've heard the legendary pokemon can speak to who they chose, but they only roar now. Still, I don't need words to understand. They hover around Ash and Pikachu like a lioness shielding its cub from the word and perhaps it's exactly that. A wounded cub that will succumb to the hurts of the world if they're allowed to grow.

So this place…is beyond space and time?

But what good is that for the rest of the world? And why am I here as well?

There's something else. They stare at me. Glare at me.

I already know the part I've played in this catastrophe. But it's far too late now.

Dialga roars. Just Dialga, blue scales catching light from nowhere in this physics-defying place and saying…what? Dialga, the ruler of time but all the time in the world can't mend certain types of wounds and death is one of the deepest of them all?

But Ash is really something else, for even the legendries to come to him even if they're too late.

But Dialga stalks up to me and roars again. Roars and something shifts. I see a flash of the past – and with it, the puzzle of the present clicks into place.

Dialga can do more than just freeze time. It can rewind it. And it's offering…

Not to Ash. Palkia is curled around them now, around Ash and Pikachu.

And Dialga stares at me.

'You'd…' I begin, throat dry. The dragon does nothing so I continue on. 'You'd let me go back?' To fix my mistakes? To rewrite the current tragedy, the impending catastrophe? 'Why me?'

It just makes the weight of what I've done that much heavier, if rewinding the clock will be enough of a change –

But Dialga stretches out a claw and flicks my hair and I've got no idea what that means.

'I don't understand,' I admit. 'I've made a mess of things but trying to do something hasn't gotten me anywhere either. But I was too slow. Too late. Too…afraid. If I have the time, maybe I can change something…or maybe that's another excuse, but…'

Dialga regards me.

If it's offering, I know I want this chance. I owe them that. Ash. Mairin. Professor Sycamore. The whole of Kalos.

'I want to try.'

And the next roar shatters my grip on this world and sends me floating and far away.

And when I wake up next, there's no darkness, no tower, no burnt flesh of dead pokemon or screams or shrieks as a battle for control is fought. There's just sunlight dancing amongst the clouds and a Charmander asleep on my chest.


End file.
